


From there to here

by kiwialicat



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Late late Christmas gift, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 00:10:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13558545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwialicat/pseuds/kiwialicat
Summary: “I’m not going to stop wanting what I want.  No,” Nathan shakes his head, “needing what I need.  So perhaps you need to just stop worrying about how it looks.”“Just…” Brendon lets out a resigned breath, “you don’t know what one of these guys you pick up might do one day.”Nathan's got it pretty sorted, or so he thinks, until someone unexpected comes along.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SilverShroud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverShroud/gifts).



> Wow, so this is finally done. Only a wee bit late :p This turned into a completely self-indulgent flight of fancy. I apologise in advance.

“This isn’t about my bowling.”

The statement is met with a question.

“It isn’t?”

Nathan sits back in the stiff conference room chair and folds his arms.

“With an interrogation panel of one?  Why are we doing this here?”  Nathan looks around at their corporate style surroundings.

“Doing _what_ here?”

Nathan shakes his head and makes to get up, “whatever.”

“We’re doing this here because we behave like any captain and one of his senior players.  I sure as hell wasn’t going to have this conversation in your room.”

And Nathan sits down hard.  So there’s a conversation to be had.  It’s not surprising.  He’s pretty sure he knows what’s coming.

“So…just spit it out then.”

Nathan watches Brendon lean back a little as he stands with this weight rested against the back of a chair.  Even when he’s trying to assert some sort of formality over a situation, there’s that ever-present casual air. 

“What have you been doing, Nathan?”

Nathan shakes his head in that intolerant fashion he’s been using a lot lately, “wanna be a bit more specific?”

Brendon looks down and Nathan knows that this isn’t going to be comfortable for him.  Brendon doesn’t usually mind getting to the point.

“There are bruises.”

Nathan raises his eyebrows along with this shoulders, “do you want to actually get to the point if this conversation?”

Brendon pauses before continuing, “One of the guys came to me and said he saw bruises across your ribs.”

“So?”

Brendon rubs a hand over his face and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.  Nathan wonders if he’s still standing so he can make a quick getaway.

“Do I really have to say it?”

Nathan reverses his position and leans in now, getting closer to Brendon and looking at him intently.

“Yeah, why not?  I’m drawing a blank over here.”

Brendon doesn’t back off or break the eye contact.  It’s not his style.

“You’re letting someone hurt you.”  There’s a pause again, as if Brendon thinks Nathan’s going to deny it. “I need to know that you’re being careful.”

Nathan smirks, “Nah, that’s not it.” He shifts position again, slouching backwards and letting his legs fall open, and lets the statement hang there.

He watches for it; the sign that Brendon is uncomfortable with the accusation. He’s not sure anyone else would pick up on it, but he does, and he smiles a little more.

“What is it then?”

Nathan laughs without humour, “you know, if I have to do your job for you, I’m gonna ask for a raise.  You’ve brought me in here under some pretence that you’re worried about me, when we both know you’re worried about how it looks when I turn up with marks on me and how that will reflect on the team, i.e. you.  I’m a fucking professional cricketer.  I get bruised.”

“Yeah but your bruises aren’t from playing sport.”

Nathan bites down on the quip.  Depends on your definition of ‘sport’, oh brother of mine.

“No one will find out, okay?” Nathan’s leaned forward again now.

“But someone has.  Trent came and told me he was worried because people shouldn’t have bruises where you do.”

“Yeah?  So how did you fob him off?”

“I didn’t.  I said I’d talk to you.”

It’s bubbling now, barely kept in check beneath the surface.

“So aside from the fact that this is none of his and none of your business, are you going to tell me what you brought me in here to tell me so this whole awkward as hell conversation can be over with?”

“I…” Brendon’s not thought this through, that much is obvious to Nathan as he makes a rare false start.  Maybe he’d thought this would sort itself out by simply raising the topic, “I think it’s dangerous that you meet men you don’t know and let them to hurt you.  I want you to stop.”

And there is it.

Nathan had almost been willing this conversation into existence with this less than careful behaviour of late.  Somehow this doesn’t feel as satisfying as it was in his imagination.   Of course, part of this whole thing was designed to get Brendon’s attention.  So this is it.  The moment when he has the attention and he can lay out on the table what’s been unspoken.  Why doesn’t it feel anything like a win?

“So is it the men-I-don’t-know part or the other thing that bothers you?”

“You know I don’t care what – ”

And oh, it’s hard for you to say, isn’t it Brendon?

“You don’t care who I fuck, as long as it’s not you.”

Brendon shouldn’t be surprised by Nathan’s directness. They’re cut from the same cloth.

Nathan waits for the bitter retort he’d imagined.

“This isn’t about us,” Brendon states wearily.

Nathan’s not sure that’s true, but doesn’t bother saying it out loud.  Everything is about them in Nathan’s mind.  It’s a door that Brendon had slammed shut a year ago.  Nathan hadn’t had the same success. 

“I’m not going to stop wanting what I want.  No,” Nathan shakes his head, “needing what I need.  So perhaps you need to just stop worrying about how it looks.”

“Just…” Brendon lets out a resigned breath, “you don’t know what one of these guys you pick up might do one day.”

Nathan looks at Brendon.  He sees the concern there, not very well hidden, and it softens something in him.  If he was being honest he’d agree.  He’s been more reckless than he would normally feel comfortable with.  Most of the men he’d picked up over the last year knew who he was.  They were, of course, completely anonymous to him.  So there’s the danger of exposure, not to mention the dangers that are worse.

“So what?  I just told you I’m not stopping.”

“So find someone.”  Brendon doesn’t add on the rest.  The bit where he infers Nathan needs to find someone discreet and regular who isn’t going to blab.  Maybe that description is a little too obviously close to home for his comfort.

Nathan snorts, “The only person who would be safe in the way you care about would be someone in the team.”  Nathan holds Brendon’s stare until he looks away, and adds on, “yeah, exactly.  Are we done here?”

He pushes back from the table, expecting Brendon to have the last word.  The fact that there’s nothing doesn’t satisfy Nathan and he feels that bubbling anger cloud his vision as he walks away from the door he hasn’t bothered to shut behind him.

He’s exclaiming a loud and furious, “you!” seconds later.

It’s bad luck on Trent’s part that he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time.  There’s a group of players not far from the meeting room, but Nathan doesn’t register faces as the red mist descends and he hones in on Trent’s wide eyes.

He gets near enough for Trent to clearly see the flare of his nostrils, “what I do in my own time is none of your fucking business.  Don’t you dare go behind my back to my brother ever again.”

Trent looks suitably taken aback, until there’s an arm pushed between them, and Nathan feels fingers pushing at this chest.

“Hey, ease up.”

Nathan doesn’t glance at the owner of the hand and voice.  He doesn’t need to.  Trent does though.

“It’s okay.  He’s not going to hurt me.”  Trent’s eyes swivel front again, and his expression has changed. “When a mate’s hurt I’m not going to sit back and do nothing.”

“So why not come to me?  I would have told you what you were looking at.”

Nathan feels the hand on his chest drop away, someone is stepping back a little.

“Would you?”  Trent lets the question hang, and Nathan fails to form the confirmation.  Would he?  He’s not exactly easy to deal with at the best of times.  Even he will admit that. “So tell me then.”

Trent’s acting braver than Nathan knows he’ll be feeling.

“I sleep with men, and I like it when they hurt me.”

The room is silent.  Nathan’s waiting for something.  Some sort of exclamation of surprise, that this juiciest of revelations should garner.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Nathan shakes his head in mild disbelieve, “don’t tell me that’s all you’ve got.”

“Whether you believe me or not, I was actually worried about you.  As long as nothing’s happening that you haven’t asked for, and you’re being safe, then the rest is none of my business.”

Nathan doesn’t want to admit that he gets some sort of kick out of the shock value, but he does.

He takes a step back, “huh.”

He sees it then, a look of concern in Trent’s eyes.  This isn’t what he wants.  He doesn’t want anyone to care.  Why would anyone?  It only leads to hurt in the end, afterall.

“Yeah so, just leave it alone.”  His voice trails off meekly, and he looks at the floor.

He doesn’t remember much after that.  He somehow makes it out of the room that suddenly feels all too crowded.  Later he’ll regret not taking stock of the people in the room.  Tonight he just wants to drink until he falls asleep and worry about the rest of it on the other end of his unconsciousness.

*

They sent texts sometimes.  Random numbers coming up on his phone from hopeful men who said one thing but meant another.  He didn’t reply to any of them, even though he read every single message.  The ego boost of being able to pick up someone new and then discard them without a backwards glance was strong in the beginning.  Over time, that changed.  Lately things have happened more out of habit.  After last Friday, Nathan hasn’t felt the urge at all.

He’d looked at his team mates a little more closely in the days that followed his revelation. Training hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary.  No one spoke to him any differently. He couldn’t pick out from his interactions who knew and who didn’t.  Things seemed…normal. 

At night, he looks at the fading reflection of this most recent set of bruises in the mirror.  In another week there would be nothing left.  He couldn’t remember the face, let alone the name of the man who’d put the marks there.  Not that he should care.  Nathan picks up his phone, pacing out the old familiar routine in this head.  Make a date for after midnight with someone who was happy with some rough stuff.  No questions asked, and no hanging round after the date. 

For the forth night in a row, Nathan frowns and pushes his phone into his pocket.  He’s restless so finds himself in the near empty hotel bar ten minutes later.

“Beer won’t help you sleep.”

Nathan would grunt an elegant, “fuck off” if he could be sure it wouldn’t get back to his brother. Instead he narrows a scathing gaze at the person with the pointless if accurate observation.

“You sure about that?”

Nathan’s pretty sure he’s managed one of his best don’t-fuck-with-me faces, but somehow it only makes the intruder slide onto the bar stool alongside him.

“Yeah, pretty sure, but hey, your body I guess.”

Nathan’s sure he’s about the worst company in the world.  He looks across at the newcomer.  He’s in his squad, because of course, he can’t move for fucking cricketers in this place, but they’ve barely swapped sentences to this point, and Nathan’s pretty clueless as to why this kid is choosing now to break the ice.

“Mitchell.”  Nathan had been planning to get something else out but it feels like a large chunk of this remaining energy as gone into that simple bit of recognition.

The kid in question looks amused. “So you’re not completely off your face yet.  Can I get you another?”

Before Nathan has a chance to respond one way or the other, the kid is leaning over the bar, his slightly baggy t-shirt brushing the edge of the counter top as he rests his long slender arms and tries to get someone’s attention.  The thought is there before Nathan can stop it.  He drinks the rest of his beer and glances away.  He’s just the way Nathan likes them.  There’s a smooth honey tone to his skin and a casual laid back demeanour to the way he talks.  His torso is narrow and there’s a moment when Nathan looks back again where he can make out a flash of hip bone. 

It’s helpful when the beer arrives shortly afterwards.  Nathan downs half of his pint before muttering out a cursory, “thanks.”

Mitchell sips at this pint and studies Nathan, because that’s what it feels like.

“So, what brings you here to drink with a sad old man?”  Nathan hadn’t been planning on saying anything, but for some reason the weight of the kid’s attention has him wanting to shift the focus.

 “Thought it was about time to see why you’ve taken to drinking on your own.”

Nathan sees the small crease that adds five years instantly, and drops his eyes to Mitchell’s slender fingers pressing into his pint glass.

“You’re been stalking me?”

“Um…” Mitchell drinks again, catching up quickly, and makes a head bobbing movement of consideration, “you call it stalking, I call it noticing stuff.  I mean, I’ve noticed when I’ve come past that you’ve been here.  Nothing creepy.”  He adds on a smile and Nathan can’t tear his eyes away. 

“Coming past eh?” Nathan does his best to appear casual, but can’t deny the curiousity that’s sprung up unexpectedly.

Mitchell looks all of 12 years old suddenly.  Obviously he’d hoped Nathan would move on from the stalking joke.

“Hey, this is about you.”

“It is?”

Nathan knows he can pin people with this stare.  He’s seen the effects before.  Somehow Mitchell manages to be the equal of it, and it’s Nathan that finds a distraction in the bottom of his empty pint glass.

“Kinda, yeah.”

Nathan doesn’t want to be this guy who’s leaning in a little for the next words, but he is.  He’d been more than happy wallowing in his own misery the past few nights.  There’d been texts, even phone calls from Brendon, under the pretence of some sort of concern for this wellbeing.  He’d grudgingly responded with a couple of words at some point to get his brother off his back.

“Do you want to talk about the other day?”

Nathan’s lost.  He can’t remember interacting with Mitchell outside training and the odd team meeting, and even then it was nothing but perfunctory interaction. He shows it on his face now, and doesn’t need to say anything.

“I was there when you…” it clicks before Mitchell can figure out how to say it and Nathan straightens up a little, “well, when you said you like dick with a side of pain.”

Nathan feels like he’s suddenly not in the same conversation he was in ten seconds ago. He blinks, peers into the depths of his empty glass, and does something unusual: he smiles.

“Wow, you’re…” Nathan shakes his head, not really sure what an accurate description sounds like.

“Unexpected?” Mitchell glances across at Nathan’s glass, “another?”

Nathan shouldn’t.  Sticking around for beer and some sort of conversation with a team mate is akin to asking one of the men for a second date.  And yet…

“If you’re paying.” Nathan knows he’s sounding as dismissive as he can manage. For some reason his radar is already signalling that he needs to back off.  Stupid really.  He doesn’t really know this guy.  There’s no threat to the heavy cloak of protection around his emotions.

Nathan watches Mitchell turn, looking for the bar tender who’s conveniently disappeared.  He’s lean, and Nathan’s immediately envious of a physique he knows won’t show any signs of overindulgence for years to come, if ever.  He mentally adds on another half hour at the gym tomorrow as his next beer arrives.  He notices the clear liquid in the glass alongside his and raises an eyebrow.

“Not joining me?”

Mitchell shakes his head, “nope.”

Nathan’s waiting again, he realises. There’s something about the kid’s voice. 

“So do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Want to talk.”

Nathan would normally tell someone to fuck off, if they decided to pry.  Especially someone who doesn’t know him.  His team mates usually keep a civil distance when it comes to personal matters, and that suits him just fine.

“Why?” Nathan’s feeling a little fuzzy around the edges, “why do you even care?”  He figures it’s enough to signal the end of this conversation, but somehow Mitchell seems to double his efforts.

“Because you probably need to talk, and I bet no one else has offered.”

Nathan snorts in derision, “and what makes you think I’d choose you of all people.”

He watches the gentle shrug of Mitchell’s shoulders before eventually the quiet reply comes.

“Maybe it’s easier if you don’t know the person you’re talking to that well.  And…I’m not going to judge you.”

Nathan wants to let out a bitter laugh.  Everyone judges. 

“Yeah you will.”

Mitchell just looks back at Nathan like he’s weighing something up before he’s moving quickly.

“Okay.” He slides off his barstool, “have a good one,” and with that he’s gone. 

Nathan resists the urge to follow his retreat with his eyes. The next swallow of his beer tastes bitter.  He can’t finish it, and it’s ten minutes later when he’s closing his hotel door behind him and slumping onto his bed.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Nathan sees him, it’s too late.  None of them had ever showed up at a game before.  Nathan makes eye contact, and feels the instant recognition stab at his insides before he moves onto the next kid wanting an autograph with practiced ease.  He keeps his head low and doesn’t look anywhere other than down at whatever gets thrust in front of him.  It’s human nature to hope that something won’t be there if you can’t see it.  As the crowd ebbs away and his team mates filter back towards the dressing room, a slightly dog-eared entry ticket is thrust in front of his face.

“Well fancy seeing you here,” was all that accompanied it, and Nathan has to force his gaze up.

He does an automatic quick glance left and right to see who might be watching, or more importantly listening.

“Do you want me to sign this?”  Nathan reaches out to do just that to find the ticket moved before he gets the chance.

Nathan nearly jerks away when the man leans in and says what is obviously for Nathan’s ears only, “why don’t you go ahead and write down your hotel and room number.”

Nathan feels the pen slip a little in his fingers.  There’s a crawl of something across his skin as he remembers the voice in an entirely different context.  That age old need inside him is there.  It never went away.  He looks at the guy, who’s grinning as if he knows how this will go down and holding out his ticket expectantly.   This is easy.  Nathan doesn’t have to do anything but write down where he can be found.  His fingers tighten around the pen.

“Hey, can I see that?”

Before Nathan can put his pen anywhere near the ticket, someone reaches between them and grabs it, tugging firmly enough to pull it from the grasp of Nathan’s mystery man.

“The fuck man, that’s mine.”

Nathan looks at the pissy expression on the face in front of him and follows the guy’s eyeline to Mitchell’s face as he holds the tickets close in front of him, making out like he’s studying something slightly illegible.

After a few seconds he nods, and adds on, “Yup, thought so.  You can have that back now.”

Mitchell’s face looks unreasonably cheerful as he proffers the ticket back in the direction of its owner.

“You don’t have the right ticket.”

Nathan feels a little dumbstruck.

“Hey, I wasn’t talking to you, why don’t you fuck off.”

 And now Nathan’s eyes move from Mitchell to his former conquest, taking in the ugly expression he’s wearing.  It occurs to him all at once that there’s nothing attractive about him.  He can’t really remember anything at all apart from the brief moment of pain he let his man inflict, during which he felt alive. 

“You don’t have the ticket with after match player access.  Sorry.”

Nathan can hear the grin in Mitchell’s words, and it’s hard for him not to smile a little at the quip.

“And again, that’s none of your fucking business.”

The tickets is firmly thrust against Nathan’s chest.

“I’ll be there after midnight.  Cmon.”

Nathan feels like he’s in concrete.  His eyes look from the hand pushing the ticket against his chest up to the angry eyes of the man insisting on this details.

“I don’t think he wants you to come over mate.”

Nathan’s head turns torturously slowly towards Mitchell.

The whole thing may well have escalated into something else had an overly keen security guard not have interrupted the whole thing.  The ground was being closed, and spectators had to leave.

“Sir, you need to go _now_ sir.”

Nathan looks at the man in front of him and takes a step back, as he reluctantly obeys the security directive.

The interaction is over.  He feels out of control still, as if just a viewer in the movie of his life.  He turns to say something to Mitchell, but he’s nowhere close.  When he finally enters the dressing room, he looks around for a moment, spotting Mitchell with his back to him.  He hesitates and then decides against it.  The moment is gone.

*

It’s three days before he says anything.  There are a couple of times when he’s purposely put himself in a position where it’s easy to talk to him.  On the plane, or the team bus.  He’d even sat down next to Mitchell once at breakfast, only for the coach to arrive half a minute later.  He’s not really even sure what he means to say.

It’s the end of training when it happens.  The team have the option of walking or busing back to their hotel.  Nathan decides on the spur of the moment to walk with half a dozen of the guys, mostly because Mitchell is one of them.

He falls into step beside Mitchell’s loping stride, and catches the small smile of acknowledgement he gets.

It’s a few minutes past then, when they’ve put a little distance on the others, that he speaks.

“So are you going to tell me why you did that?”

Nathan looks straight ahead, the lack of eye contact making things easier.

“I take it you’re not talking about my round the wicket bowling at practice.”

“Genius.  Why did you stop me from giving that guy my room number?”

Nathan’s not sure if he’s annoyed or not.  It’s something he’s thought about over the last few days.  His initial reaction was to be angry.  Mitchell cost him a sure thing, and God knows it’d been a while since he’d gotten any, but then, there’s that nagging growing feeling that these men, these nameless faceless men, aren’t going to give him what they used to.  Something’s changed.  He just can’t put his finger on what.  He should be punching Mitchell’s lights out for what he did or at the very least, giving him a verbal spray, the old Nathan would, and yet, there’s that increasing feeling that the outcome wasn’t a bad one.

“That guy was a dick.  You can do better.”

Nathan’s not sure what he’s expecting, but this wasn’t it.

“No, that guy _had_ a dick, and you have no fucking clue what I want and whether he’s any good for me.” For some reason, Nathan’s annoyed at the kid’s statement.  He doesn’t want to think too hard about the fact that it’s the _you can do better_ , that gets to him.

“Aha, if you say so.”

And that’s it.  At least for the next several minutes.  Nathan doesn’t add anymore, because he’s pretty unsure about what’s going on his head.  Silence is safest.

“You know, I think I’ll run the rest of the way.”

Nathan stops in this tracks.  He watches as Mitchell starts off at a slow jog before picking up speed.

He’s well out of Nathan’s earshot when Nathan lets out a mumbled, “what the fuck.”

It feels like a long walk back.  As seems to be the custom of late, the other guys keep a distance from him, and he doesn’t feel inclined to engage any of them.

It’s the second time that Mitchell’s walked away, okay run away in this case, when they’ve been talking.  It’s usually Nathan that decides when a conversation is over.  This isn’t how things should go in his head.  He should be able to just forget the few interactions.  Mitchell isn’t important.  But it’s there, niggling.  Twice now he’s reached out to him, and twice now he’s walked away when Nathan’s come close to at least acknowledging the gesture.

He feels like he’s managed to get rid of the thought, but then most things you’re trying to suppress come back to you in the middle of the night, when there are no other distractions.

Later, he rolls over and reaches for this phone.  Mitchell’s number’s somehow found its way into his contacts and he hovers his fingers over a blank text message.

Fuck. 

He lets the exclamation of frustration out in the darkened room and rolls onto his back.  He actually has no idea what he means to say, only that he can’t get this damn thought out of this head.

_Why do you even care?_

He’s put words into his phone before he even consciously realises and stares at the glowing figures, deleting and retyping several times.

 _We need to talk_ is quickly replaced with _You’re really fucking confusing.  I don’t understand you_

And then his phone vibrates with a new incoming message. For an instant before he reads it, he thinks it’s Mitchell.  Somehow Mitchell’s lying awake thinking the same things about him.

But it’s a number he doesn’t recognise.  He debates deleting the message unread, but maybe because he’s wanting a distraction from his prevailing thoughts, he reads it anyway.

_I know you’re in town.  I can come over whenever you like.  I know what gets you hard_

Nathan doesn’t think too much before typing in a response.  He’s not sure why.  Maybe it’s the time of night.  He doesn’t want to linger too long on the thought that he’s already a little aroused.  A hand slipping beneath his single hotel sheet seconds later confirms the fact.

_What gets me hard?_

He sends it away and grips his phone loosely in one hand as his free fingers find their way around his cock. It’s been too long, and it would be easy to jerk off like this.  His eyes shut and the image he’s not completely surprised to see is there briefly.  Long arms and smooth skin and an easy smile.  He opens his eyes again and his phone vibrates.

_A filthy mouth and a big wet dick.  Give me your address_

Nathan has no idea who’s going to show when there’s a knock on his door 20 minutes later.

By that point, he’s pretty much past caring.

The guy’s been drinking but he’s coherent enough to push Nathan down into the bed on his hands and knees and yank his shorts down over his arse.

“Where’s the fucking lube?” His voice is rough and Nathan has half a mind to push him off and throw him out, but his body has other ideas.

“Don’t need it…I…ready for you.”

“Ah fuck.” The man laughs and slaps Nathan firmly on one cheek, leaning down over him and muttering hotly against his neck, “good little slut,” before he straightens a little and Nathan feels the sudden intrusion of two fingers inside him, and a flush of heat in his cheeks.

Nathan couldn’t wait however long it was going to take for this guy to turn up.  He’d jerked himself off, trying to block out the image of his young team mate, and then decided that he wanted this guy in and out, so to speak, as quickly as possible.

He’d worked himself open with some lube, re-reading the text message several times as he went.

_Filthy mouth…big wet dick…_

He doesn’t stop the guy to ask about a condom. He is usually safe, but tonight he wants what he wants and his normal thought patterns aren’t quite there.

“Yeah…yeah you are…want it huh?”

The nameless man doesn’t wait for a response, which Nathan is thankful for.  He does want it.  He pushes back as the fingers withdraw.

It’s barely a second later before he feels the blunt cock rest against him before he’s filled, fingers pressing sharply into his hips as he hears a loud grunt.  The man’s hips thrust against him again shoving his cock deeper and it’s not without discomfort.  These are the brief moments that make everything else go away.  When Nathan fleetingly thinks about these encounters in the cold light of day, he wonders why he needs the sex at all.  Perhaps he doesn’t.  Perhaps the pain is something he can manage alone.  It’s at about that point in his thinking that Nathan briefly wonders about talking to someone.  There’s something not quite right about him.  But he never lets these thoughts hang around for long.  Usually these are the times he makes his next date.

The man above him is pushing his fingers and blunt nails into Nathans hips.  The pinch as Nathan gets filled repeatedly is dulling.  He just wants the guy to come and get out of his life.  He’s two minutes into this and he know it’s a mistake.

“Just fucking come,” is grunted out under his breath as he feels the man’s alcohol coated pants against the side of his face.

A hand moves to roughly grab at his cock as the reply comes, “what’s a matter sweetheart, don’t you want to get off too?”

Nathan tightens his body around the man’s cock and bucks back hard.

“Alright…” there’s a gap filled with a harsh intake of breath, “you asked for it.”

Nathan’s eyes close as there’s another moment of intensity delivered in the form of discomfort and Nathan realises he’s going to come too.  His body has separated from his mind, and he comes even before the man does his last breathy heave against him before collapsing in unceremonious fashion against his back.  It’s a relief, in a way, that he doesn’t have to make some excuse for not getting off.

When the man shows no sign of moving minutes later, Nathan uses his strength to lift up and shove the man off.

He’s grateful when he gets the message and falls alongside onto the bed.

Nathan gets up and doesn’t look at the man once as he disappears into the bathroom.  He can’t even look at himself in the mirror as he straightens up his clothes and brings a cloth back into the bedroom.

“Here, clean up and get out.” He throws the cloth at the man who not surprisingly, scowls.

“What, no cuddling?”

Nathan’s about to say that he shouldn’t have let him come here, plus a couple of other admissions that he manages to keep to himself.  He doesn’t like appearing weak. 

“You’ve got five minutes.  I need to sleep.”

The man only pauses for a moment.  One benefit of his stocky physique and direct style is that he doesn’t generally get messed with.

A couple of minutes later, he’s alone.


	3. Chapter 3

“Things are better, huh?”

Nathan lifts his head, coming out of his preoccupied fog at the same time.

Brendon’s come back here for a cigarette, and Nathan watches as he puts down his glass of red wine to light up.

It’s Christmas day at Brendon’s house; something of a team tradition over the last few years, and Nathan’s given himself leave to hide away from the rest of the team and assorted hangers on at the back of Brendon’s big yard.

“Better?”

Nathan watches Brendon lean back in the designated smoker’s camping chair and nod.

“You seem better.”

“I’m playing alright, aren’t I?”

Brendon leans forward to pick up his wine glass, glancing sideways at the backyard cricket game taking place not too far away.

“Yeah, of course you are.  You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“So what are you talking about?”

Nathan’s doing what just comes naturally with Brendon of late, and provoking some sort of reaction.

Brendon, to his credit, is getting used to how this goes.  He sits and sips his drink.

“We don’t talk like we used to.”

Nathan looks up sharply, unable to stop the words. “And we both know why that is.”

Brendon ignores the comment that Nathan regrets as soon as it’s out, “you…” and there’s that slightly nervous glance away again, “seeing anyone?”

“Oh I dunno, has anyone reported any new bruising?”

Nathan locks eyes with Brendon.  He wonders how long he can keep this up.  He was hurt, by what Brendon ended, but as time has gone on he’s grudgingly admitted to himself that it was the right thing to do.  His initial anger and cold shoulder was justified, in his head.  Now, it just takes extra energy.

Brendon sighs, and almost as if he can read Nathan, hits home with this reply.

“You don’t have to stay pissed with me forever, you know.  You know things had to happen the way they did.  I only did what one of us had to do.”

Brendon’s eyes on Nathan don’t help and he looks away.  He can’t deny any of it, so he doesn’t say anything.

“And no, no reports of anything seen in the showers, you’ll be happy to know.”

Nathan breathes in Brendon’s smoke and forces his focus back again.

“Yeah well, I’ve kinda stopped.”

He doesn’t have to say what, and Brendon simply acknowledges the admission with a simple nod.

It’d been a month since Nathan had had his encounter in his hotel room, and since then he hadn’t felt the urge to repeat the experience.

“You should stop moping about back here bro.  It’s Christmas.  Go play cricket or something.”

Nathan chuckles, a sound not overly familiar to his own ears, “you’re joking.  That’s my day job.”

Brendon gets up then, patting Nathan on the knee as he goes, “alright, but at least stop hiding back here.  Chat later?”

Nathan nods, not really expecting Brendon to find time for him, amongst everyone else who’ll be wanting a piece of him.

Not long after, Nathan finds himself at the darts board pinned to the garage wall, aimlessly throwing small projectiles with very little concentration.

“I’d challenge you to a game, but…you know.”

Nathan’s hand stills with the dart about be let go and he suppresses a smile.

“Yeah yeah, you’re the world’s greatest darts player.  I’ve heard.”

“Huh.  Don’t think I’ve quite got the overhanging gut for it.  Or the Mohawk.”

And that might be the moment that does Nathan in.  He looks, can’t stop himself, in time to see Mitchell rubbing a hand innocently enough across a partly bared strip of skin above the top of his shorts.

Mitchell has a Santa hat on and Nathan can’t stop the grin now.

“Really?  Santner Claus?”

“Hey,” Mitchell’s hands go wide, “why fight it?”

“Here.” Nathan proffers his last two darts in Mitchell’s direction.  “Go ahead and show me how it’s done.”

Nathan watches Mitchell look from Nathan’s face to his hand and back again before stepping forward and taking the darts.

“Alright.”

Nathan steps back, and watches.  Mitchell moves slowly, takes his time to aim.  He pauses as he’s about to take a shot and looks at Nathan.  Nathan hasn’t looked at him much before, not up close at least.  The longest time he’d spent staring at him directly was in the bar.

“What?” Nathan questions curiously.

“You’re making me nervous.”

Nathan feels taken aback and amused at the same time.

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

Nathan watches Mitchell focus back on the board again, regardless and take the shot, followed by another one.

Nathan focuses on Mitchell the whole time.  He moves languidly, as if he’s not hurried by anything.  Nathan sees his eyes squint up a little as he wanders towards the board.

Pulling the darts out, he turns to Nathan.

“See?”

Nathan has to shake himself a little once he realises Mitchell’s expecting him to have noticed something.

All he can manage is a confused look, which has Mitchell looking between him and the darts board.

“You threw me off.”

“What, just by standing here?”

“Standing and watching.”

“Well most of the time you run away before I get the chance.” And it’s another thing that’s out before Nathan has properly thought it through.

Mitchell’s found a bottle of beer from somewhere and is taking a decent swallow.  And yes, Nathan watches as he tilts his head back and makes a small sound of satisfaction.

“You didn’t want me to run away?”

Nathan shrugs.  He isn’t sure what he wants anymore.  He’d managed to figure out a couple of things that he _didn’t_ want, at least.  He watches Mitchell finger at the label on his bottle, clearly waiting for something.  Damn, if Nathan isn’t entranced by those long fingers.

“Yeah, guess you did.”

It’s Mitchell scratching absently at the back of his head as he fills in the space that shakes Nathan back to something like reality.

“Just gonna go…”  And Mitchell’s waving his free hand around absently, “do something over there.”

And Nathan should say something, only there isn’t anything that doesn’t sound needy or desperate in his head right now, so he watches Mitchell retreat before resuming his solo game of darts.

*

It’s the last game of the current series.  It’s been another successful one, as the team is becoming accustomed to at home of late.

Nathan has his eyes on the skied ball early, and he knows all the other eyes at the ground are on him.  It feels like an age before it drops, swirling in the wind, and somehow finds his hands.  He hears his teammates before he sees them start to arrive, and his eyes find the bowler’s first, his hands raised into celebratory, yet almost low key fists, as a small smile plays on his lips.  That’s the end of the game, and there are high fives, hugs and backslaps going around.  Nathan makes his mind up without too much thought about it.  Perhaps if he had, things would have gone differently.  He trots over to Mitchell, still being congratulated by the last couple of team mates for taking his third wicket, and puts his arms around him slowly and deliberately in a gesture of celebration.  It’s accepted, of course.  Nothing is questioned in the heat of a winning moment, and because of that, Mitchell lets him.

Nathan holds on and breathes in, and then he does another thing he doesn’t think too much about and pushes his face into Mitchell’s neck so he can say something for his ears only.

“I don’t want you to run away.”

For a second he doesn’t think that Mitchell’s heard him, but then he pulls back and Nathan gets a look that tells him he has.

There’s no reaction for a moment, and then a tiny turning up of the corner of his mouth, as he watches Nathan a little longer than a wicket celebration calls for.

Someone comes in from the side, slinging an arm around Mitchell’s neck, and taking him by surprise, he recovers quickly enough but by then, the moment is broken and Nathan watches him get dragged off by another team mate.

It’s one of those end of series nights when they go out drinking.  Sometimes Nathan doesn’t join in, but something, or more accurately, someone has him deciding that tonight he’ll go along with the flow.

It could just be his imagination because it’s just what he wants to be true, but he thinks Mitchell is watching him.  Not out and out staring, but more or less keeping tabs and glancing in his direction every now and then.  It feels to Nathan like being 16 all over again.

He’s leaning over a bar somewhere and waiting for someone to notice him to take his order when he feels it.  His head turns deliberately slowly as if he already knows what or who has just touched him and he doesn’t want to be wrong about it.

There’s a hand on the small of his back, and his head turns to meet Mitchell’s eyes as he draws alongside.

There’s a moment then when it feels like things are being communicated but there are no words.  Nathan expects Mitchell to break the contact or move away.  This is the pattern of things, but he stays, close enough for Nathan to smell him and feel the heat from this hand seeping into his body.

It’s someone else who speaks first, and Nathan takes what feels like an age to realise what’s happening.  It’s Mitchell’s head turning towards the voice that finally breaks through the fog.  Mitchell’s ordering two beers and paying for them efficiently before Nathan has the chance to protest.

“Come on,” Mitchell’s somehow moved in a little closer now, “let’s take these outside.” And there’s no question there as Mitchell uplifts the pints and turns without a backwards glance to head for the direction of the garden bar.

It’s cool and quiet outside, and Nathan pauses for a second, enjoying the change of atmosphere, before looking around for the reason he came out in the first place.

Mitchell’s tucked into a corner, already sipping at his beer, as he waits for Nathan.

Nathan doesn’t say anything as he slips into the bench seat alongside him.  It’s Mitchell who quietly speaks first.

“I’m not sure what you want to happen.” Mitchell looks down at his fingers on his beer glass. “I mean…if I don’t run away, what then?”

He drinks again and licks at his lips as he finally regards Nathan.

Nathan can’t separate his thoughts from what his body does when he watches those pink smooth lips in the dim light of the courtyard, so he looks away, looks at anything else but.  Somehow he finds himself wanting to give an answer that isn’t ruled or at least influenced by his dick.

“I don’t really know.”

He sits and imagines Mitchell’s small frown.  Can’t quite look at him again yet, as he tries to form some words that are a little more useful.

“I mean…you’re fucking confusing.”  He feels a grin enter his words.  It’s the truth, and finds himself strangely feeling like honesty is called for and what he wants to offer right now.

“You act like you give a damn, like more than anyone has for years, and then you just turn completely disinterested.”

“Do you want me to give a damn?”

Nathan doesn’t miss the hopeful tone Mitchell fails to keep out of his words, and he finds the answer is there, taking him by surprise and threatening to come out before Nathan can stop it with his almost forgotten control.

“I don’t…” Nathan doesn’t know how to put this.  None of this is in his sphere of experience. “I don’t do relationships.”  And there it is, for better or for worse.

Mitchell, to his credit, doesn’t flinch.  He takes another sip and watches Nathan carefully.

“Are you suggesting that I’m looking for one?”

And Nathan has no clue what he’s suggesting, or why he’s even said it in the first place.  The honest truth is that he hasn’t done relationships, because he’s been so scared of what might happen if he tried.

“I mean…all I did was look out for you a little bit.”  Mitchell’s looking everywhere but at Nathan now, and Nathan can see the discomfort there as he speaks, “what makes you think I wanted to get into your pants.”

Nathan can’t help but smile a little again.  “What if I wanted you to?”  He hasn’t really had enough to drink to blame it on the beer, but he says it anyway, because there’s something about Mitchell that makes him want to be as close to honest as he can make himself be.

Mitchell leans back a little, leaving his beer on the table and looking at Nathan openly.  Nathan can’t read anything.  He makes himself wait, even though he really wants to break the silence.

“What makes you think I’m into men?”

Nathan grins, wanting to ask the question, but slightly dreading the answer.

“Are you?” 

Nathan drinks, trying to look as casual as he can.  Like he’s just asked what sort of toothpaste Mitchell prefers.

It feels like an age before Mitchell shrugs, and then seconds later before he says anything.

“Dunno.  I might be.”

Nathan can’t stop the look he gives Mitchell.  He’s frustrated and enthralled at the same time.  He can see Mitchell gets it, or at least the general idea of what Nathan’s thinking.  His head drops and he gets that slightly embarrassed look that Nathan would almost call cute if he was that sort of bloke.

“Might be?”

Mitchell’s head rises slowly and he’s smiling a little.

“What if I was?” He drinks his beer, and his expression changes.  It’s as if he’s thrown the ball back to Nathan, and he’s waiting to see how he’s going to deliver it.

“Wow…”  Nathan shakes his head, “this isn’t normally how this goes.” He drinks, and wonders why he’s managing this conversation when he’s so sober.

“What?  They normally roll over and open their legs?”

There’s a hint of a hard edge to the words but then Nathan looks at Mitchell and his expression softens.

“Actually, it’s usually me rolling over and…well…” Nathan feels nervous again, wondering what the fuck he’s gotten himself into. “I don’t usually talk to any of them.”

“No?”

Mitchell watches Nathan shake his head.

“Don’t you get lonely?  Doesn’t it get weird?  That guy at the game the other day was a cock.”

Nathan’s struck again by why anyone would care.

“Does it matter?  I just…it’s not about…” And Nathan has no clue how to put it. “I just get off.”

Nathan looks at Mitchell, a little of his old defiance returning as he waits for the shock and possible revulsion.

“Don’t you want more than that?”

Nathan has to look away when he replies.  He doesn’t want to see the pity.

“I don’t want to get hurt.”

Mitchell’s quiet.  Nathan’s already revealed enough to lay himself open to hurt, and he can’t really figure out why.

“Fuck…why am I even telling you this?”  He’s shaking his head and crossing his arms across his chest.

“Because it helps, and I’m easy to talk to?”

Nathan looks at Mitchell, and sees the honesty there.  He believes what he’s suggested, and Nathan, against his usual judgement, finds himself agreeing.

“Easy to look at too.”  Nathan keeps watching over the rim of his nearly empty pint glass, easily slipping into the other version of himself.

“Does that usually work?”

Nathan’s amused, “I don’t usually have to put this amount of work in, to be honest.”

“So…” Mitchell’s shaking his head a little, and finishing up the dregs of his beer, “what happens now?”

“Usually the men come back to my room and I let them fuck me.”  Again, Nathan’s amazed at how candid he’s being.  Somehow it feels okay.  If he’s being completely honest, it feels like a relief.

“Is that what you want me to do?  Fuck you?”

Nathan has no idea how to answer.  On the one hand, the immediate answer he’d give if nothing mattered is a yes.  So why suddenly does anything matter?  Why should he care what the kid, okay, man in front of him thinks about his desires.  What does it matter if being honest about it makes Mitchell leave, and maybe not talk to him again?

It’s too long, and he hasn’t answered.

“You do.  You just don’t want to say it.”

“You’re just going to think I’m a - ”  And he doesn’t know what.  A slut?  He doesn’t want to say any of it out loud.  It’s all too real and too hard to hear.

“I don’t think you have any idea what I think you are.”

“So?”

Mitchell smiles and Nathan feels more engaged with what’s in front of him than he can remember being in a long time.

Mitchell shrugs, “you’re…interesting.”

“That it?” Nathan can hear it in his voice.  He doesn’t want to be the desperate old man hoping for some scrape of a compliment from pretty young thing, but yet, here he is, and he’s not sure there’s any way back.

“I think you want more than a fuck, you just don’t want to admit it.”

The old Nathan rears up again, “and you think you can change me?”

“I think you can change if you want to.”

“I think I want another beer.  You?”

Mitchell looks like he’s considering it, but then he slowly shakes his head.  “I’m gonna head back to my room.”

Nathan feels the disappointment sneaking up on him, and he’s not quite sure what to do with it. He fingers at this empty glass, eyeing his blunt nails.

“Alright.  Thanks for the drink.” He looks up on the last word, to see Mitchell slowly lifting to this feet, and stretching his long body in a way that Nathan can’t help but drink in.  And then it’s added on, almost as if it’s an afterthought, which Nathan’s sure there’s no way it can be.

“Come by later if you want.”

Mitchell looks down at Nathan, seemingly waiting for the invite to have been received.

“Really?” Nathan’s glad he manages not to put the surprise into the word that’s bubbling inside him.

Mitchell just nods and smiles a little before adding on, “not too late.  Need my beauty sleep.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Nathan doesn’t know what an acceptable amount of time is before he can knock on Mitchell’s door.  He has no sphere of experience to draw on.  He doesn’t really know what sort of label to put on what’s happening, or what’s about to happen, if anything.

An unusual feeling comes over him as he raises his fist to announce his presence, and he only finds it intensifying as he repeats the action half a minute later.  He leans a little closer to the door, listening for any sign of life, and is surprised to find himself speaking Mitchell’s name seconds later when he doesn’t hear anything.

The unusual feeling, which he doesn’t really want to put a label on, is joined by something else.  He’s disappointed.  He wonders how long he can stand here without feeling foolish.  He knocks again, gives it a minute, looking at the closed door reluctantly before turning and retreating back down the corridor in the direction of his room.

Almost too late, he hears it.  A soft click and then a voice, low and lethargic.

“Leaving already?”

Nathan stops and turns.  Mitchell’s standing in his hotel doorway in shorts and a t-shirt.  Nathan smiles but stops himself from moving towards him.

“I woke you up.”

Mitchell scrubs a hand across his face and nods a little, “bet you already picked me as a lightweight.”

Despite everything about Mitchell drawing Nathan in, he somehow manages to say what he feels is the right thing, if not the thing he wants.

“I’ll just…” and he’s motioning over his shoulder, “let you get back to sleep.”

“No.”  It comes quickly, and Nathan’s surprised at the relief that comes with it. “I was waiting for you…must have just dropped off.”

And now Nathan’s moving, an interested smile on his face as he reaches Mitchell’s door.

“Waiting?”

He watches the small shrug and half smile, and is stupidly charmed, “yeah well, I figured you’d show.  Just didn’t know when.”

Mitchell pauses a second, and then moves in his typically unhurried way to motion Nathan into his room.

Nathan looks around, unsure of what’s supposed to happen next.  This is the stuff he usually avoids.  He knows how to get to the main act, but he has no clue if that’s where they’re heading.  He has no clue about a lot of things right now.

“Sit if you want.”

And Nathan would, if he could figure out where.  He glances between the bed and the overly upright and uncomfortable hotel lounge furniture and settles for the safe option of the two seater sofa.

“Want something to drink?”

“Um…” Nathan shakes his head, “nah, I’m good.”  He regrets that decision as soon as he’s made it, as he clasps his hands together awkwardly and fails to come up with anything to say.  At least if he had a drink in his hand, he’d have some sort of distraction.

As it happens, he doesn’t really have to wait too long for something to distract him.  Mitchell stands, not far from the closed door, watching Nathan eventually settle into the sofa.  As soon as there’s a pause where both men seem to have no clue what to do next, Mitchell does something completely unexpected.

“What – ” Nathan sits back a little and lifts his arms in the air as if he’s flinching away from something as Mitchell wanders over to him and ever so casually settles into Nathan’s lap by straddling his legs on the sofa.

He watches and feels Mitchell’s eyes wander over him from this closer angle, and wills himself to relax.  He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be taking some initiative or waiting for Mitchell’s next move so he just lets his arms rest either side of his body.

“So this is better.”  Mitchell finally meets Nathan’s eyes and he’s grinning in recognition of the curve ball he’s just thrown.

“This is…friendly,” Nathan confirms.

“I want us to be friendly.”

Nathan raises an eyebrow, “oh yeah?  How friendly?”

Mitchell grins again, before letting something approaching a serious expression fall into place.

“I’m not going to fuck you.”

Nathan’s amused, “okay.”

“I mean…that’s what you get all those men to do, right?”

Nathan doesn’t want to think about any of that right now.  He wants to draw a line under it all and start again.  He doesn’t know exactly what starting again means, but this doesn’t feel like any of those nights where he got a nameless stranger to fuck him.  He wants to say that to Mitchell; that this is different.  He’s not sure how he’s supposed to respond, so he doesn’t.  Instead, he tentatively lifts a hand and slips it around the back of Mitchell’s neck.

Mitchell doesn’t move when Nathan touches him.  He speaks again instead.

“You’re being less forward than I thought you’d be.”

Nathan’s fingers move a little against Mitchell’s neck.

“You just told me you’re not going to fuck me. Plus, I have no fucking clue what you want.”

Mitchell’s grin isn’t exactly shit-eating, but near enough, and Nathan’s taken by surprise again as he feels a hand snake between them and long fingers press at the front of this pants, instantly finding his interested cock.

“Just because I’m not going to fuck you, doesn’t mean I don’t want something else.”

Nathan moves his mouth to meet Mitchell’s seconds later.  He doesn’t usually do this either.  He doesn’t let any of the men he meets up with kiss him, not that most of them try anyway.

He’s not sure which of them initiated it, but it feels like he’s the one who takes the lead as his fingers tighten on Mitchell’s neck and he parts his lips and works them gently at first, then with more urgency. 

It feels good.  Better than good, and Nathan feels that conflict he’s sensed a lot lately rising to the surface again.  This isn’t a hard and fast encounter which he’s in control of.  He has no idea where this is going and he’s not the one about to end things. On the contrary, he’s torn between breaking the kiss so he can find out what Mitchell actually wants, and rubbing his tongue alongside Mitchell’s and pushing his fingers up into his hair. 

He doesn’t have to make a decision though, as it’s Mitchell that breaks the contact, his warm breaths pushed against Nathan’s lips as he stays close, and rests their foreheads together.

“You want more than a fuck.”

Nathan’s confused for a second, unsure if it’s a statement or a question.

“Admit it,” Mitchell adds on.

“Or what?”

Mitchell’s answer sounds slightly playful, “or I won’t tell you what I want.” 

“Man, you don’t play fair.”  And he doesn’t either.  Nathan feels soft lips press against his cheek and move over his skin.  Mitchell’s fingers are still pressed at his growing cock and Nathan can’t ignore it anymore.  He admitted it grudgingly to himself weeks ago, and then tried not to think too much about it.  He can’t exactly deny it now.  The evidence is pretty front and centre. He wants something different than he’s always had, and that comes with new and unexpected feelings. 

He curls a hand around Mitchell’s wrist, stilling his fingers.  It doesn’t still his mouth though, which has dropped to his neck and Nathan feels a hum of mumbled words against his skin.

“I want you to fuck me.”

And Nathan stiffens.  It’s yet another of those unexpected moments that are coming thick and fast.  Mitchell feels it and straightens up a little to look at Nathan.

“I don’t – ”  and Nathan stops, letting the words fall away.  No, he doesn’t do that.  Not that he _hasn’t_ done that. “Why?”

Mitchell’s not put off.  Nathan can tell by his expression.

“Because I think we’d both enjoy it.  I think you’d make me feel good.”  And Mitchell’s closer again now, “I know I’d make you feel good.”

Nathan looks at Mitchell and believes him.  He lets out a barely audible, “damn,” before he can stop himself.  He feels his fingers loosen on Mitchell’s wrist and it’s all the encouragement Mitchell needs. 

Nimble hands work at Nathan’s pants, opening them easily so Mitchell can push his fingers inside and into Nathan’s underwear.  The first gentle brush of Mitchell’s fingers across Nathan’s cock makes him want to scream.  He had no idea.  It’s built up in Nathan so slowly yet so intensely that his body’s moved way ahead of him, and he’s not sure he can give Mitchell what he wants without having to take a long cold shower.

“Oh fuck…” And Nathan’s torn between needing to get off right here and now and the other thing he’s having to admit he wants. “If you keep touching me I’ll come.”

Nathan expects Mitchell to stop, but instead he does the opposite.  Fingers close around his cock.  Nathan squirms and despite his warnings, he feels his hips push up a little.

“You like that, huh?  Been a while?”

Nathan looks at Mitchell who’s almost taunting him, “this what you want?” Mitchell says it as he grips his cock and jerks it slowly. 

Nathan can’t keep his voice level, “I’ll come if you don’t stop.”

“You want me to stop?”  And fuck, Nathan wants to keep feeling like this and he wants the other thing that Mitchell wants. He opens his mouth and closes it again, and figures if he says nothing he can’t be held accountable for what happens.

Nathan’s lost in the feeling.  Somewhere along the way he’s kissing Mitchell again.  It might have been a minute or ten, he’s not sure, but he knows he’s not stopping what’s about to happen.  Mitchell doesn’t seem to mind.  His wrist twists and he works at Nathan diligently, groaning into his mouth as he does.

When Nathan comes, embarrassingly hard and fairly noisily, Mitchell keeps working his cock, letting Nathan’s cum assist in the task and pulling back a little to watch Nathan’s reaction.  Nathan’s eyes close for an instant, and he feels himself grabbing less than delicately at Mitchell’s hair until he passes over into recovery, and his breathing is the only sound in the room.

He feels his head go back against the sofa.  He manages to open his eyes enough to watch Mitchell, who’s grinning as if waiting for Nathan to grasp the punchline.  Nathan’s pretty sure he gets it.  He has to swallow before he can say anything.

“So that probably put paid to your plans.”  He looks down at the fingers still wrapped around his cock, “unless you think you can get me up for round two.” Nathan smirks, and Mitchell doesn’t move or change his expression.

“Who says I wanted you to fuck me tonight?”  Mitchell leans closer and kisses Nathan almost chastely on the cheek, “there’s no rush.”

Nathan hadn’t thought anywhere past this encounter.  Mitchell, with an apparently casual remark had said plenty.  He wants more than a one time thing with Nathan.  Nathan isn’t sure what to feel.  The old Nathan wouldn’t have made it this far to be confronted with the possibility of something more.  So now he’s here, he finds his first reaction isn’t to push Mitchell away, like he’s used to doing. 

“I’m not sure what you want.” 

Mitchell pulls his hand out of Nathan’s pants, and unceremoniously wipes it on his t-shirt.

“No?” He grins, “I thought I’d mentioned that a little while back.”

“Yeah, so why did you get me off instead?  I mean, I would have fucked you.”

“I wanted to do that.  You’re hot like this.  And besides, you want to see me again.”

Nathan’s not sure if Mitchell’s as confident as he sounds.  He can’t imagine being anything like this at his age.

“I do?”

Mitchell nods, “why not?”

And Nathan could say a few things in response.  He doesn’t want to be tied to anyone.  He doesn’t want to be taken advantage of.  He doesn’t want to get hurt.  And that’s what it all boils down to.   The irony of the type of hurt he won’t invite versus the type he does isn’t lost on him.

“I – ” and he can’t do it.  Mitchell’s right here.  He’s looking at him as if he knows everything that Nathan might come up with, and why none of it makes any sense.

“I think we should go to sleep,” Mitchell supplies instead.

Nathan’s amused, and grins in response. “Well I had been planning on it.” And Mitchell pulling his soiled t-shirt over his head and tossing it away, removes all other thoughts from his head.

“Do you want a shower?” Mitchell asks.

“I um…are you asking me to stay?”

Mitchell doesn’t reply right away.  He picks that moment to slide off Nathan’s lap and wander into the kitchen area to pour himself a glass of water.

Nathan watches him, wanting to say something, but not wanting to appear like he’s hanging on his every word, even if he is.

“Gonna shower.  I think you should join me, then I think we should sleep.”

Nathan watches Mitchell disappear into the bathroom seconds later.  This is his out.  He could walk away now, straight out the door, and that would be that.  He wouldn’t have to mention this again, and he’s pretty sure Mitchell would accept it.  Normally he’d be straight out the door without a backwards glance.  Who the hell is this guy to tell him what he should do next?  He’s used to having the control.  He’s used to nights alone.  He doesn’t do relationships.  He doesn’t do whatever this is.

He hears the shower seconds later, and looks over at the open bathroom door.

“Fuck,” is mumbled out under his breath.  He’s already come this far, so to speak.  He wanders into the bathroom, and pulls off his shirt without too much thought.

Mitchell slides open the shower door and gives him a half-smile.  Nathan looks him over, unapologetically.  It’s not like he’s the first man he’s seen naked, but there’s stuff that goes along with this that changes things.  Mitchell will still be in his life tomorrow, and Mitchell for whatever reason, cares about Nathan in some way.  He doesn’t really like thinking about that, but it’s undeniable that there’s some reason Mitchell’s behaved the way he has, and it doesn’t feel like it’s been about getting off.

“You normally invite strange men into your shower?”  Nathan says it as he’s pushing off the rest of his clothes and shoes, feeling more self-conscious than he can remember being in a long time.

Mitchell just opens the door wider and reaches for a bar of soap, “if by strange you mean interesting, then no, not that often.”

Nathan straightens up, and slips into the steamy space behind Mitchell before he can spend too much more time being looked at.  There are things he wants to know.  That fact alone makes him a little nervous about what he’s doing.  He wants to ask about what’s in Mitchell’s past and why he has any interest in Nathan at all.  Instead, he stands awkwardly and watches Mitchell twist his neck to look back at him.

“This is the bit where you offer to wash my back.”

And there he goes again, being told what to do.  Instead of complaining, or hell, just walking away all together, he lets Mitchell push a slippery bar of soap into his hand and a second later he’s raising that hand to rest the soap slightly tentatively at the top of Mitchell’s back.

“I’ve never done this before.”  He says it before he starts working the soap over the smooth skin of Mitchell’s back.

“Done what?”

“Showered with someone.”  Nathan watches Mitchell’s head dip as he glides the soap lower.  He’s no idea why he felt the need to admit that, or why Mitchell would even care.

“Well I’m honoured.”

Nathan smiles, surprising himself.  He lets the soap moves a little more firmly against Mitchell’s skin, eventually rubbing it across his bare arse.  He hears the small noise Mitchell makes and lets his hand slip around his waist, moving closer until his body brushes up against the one in front of him.

He feels Mitchell move back into him slightly and it’s as natural as anything to let his hand travel lower again, searching for Mitchell’s cock.  He isn’t disappointed when he feels how hard Mitchell is.  There’s always that sense of satisfaction when someone else is turned on by his actions.  Nathan feels the change in Mitchell’s body as he lets the soap slick him up, and his mouth is pressed against Mitchell’s neck before he considers how intimate the action is.

“Would be rude not to return the favour,” is muffled into Mitchell’s skin. He lets the soap go and his fingers are around Mitchell’s cock, applying enough pressure to make him squirm and as a result, push back against Nathan.

“Such a gentleman.”

Nathan feels Mitchell’s head go back against him and he increases his not unskilled efforts, feeling Mitchell’s head tilt a little as he invites Nathan’s mouth across his skin.  Nathan doesn’t usually spend any time touching or admiring the male bodies that make it into his room.  They perform a service and nothing more.  He lets his free hand slide and flatten against Mitchell’s stomach, holding him in place as he lets his own cock spring to life again.   Mitchell’s hips are working now, the stimulation of Nathan’s hand driving him to the edge, as he pushes his arse against Nathan, no doubt well aware of the added effect his movement are having. 

Nathan hasn’t done this to someone else too many times.  His usual aim is to get himself off, with not that much regard for the other person.  He knows how to touch himself though, and he can feel Mitchell about to come before he hears the deep groan rumble against him and the wet of his release adds to the damp from the shower.

A breathy “fuck” goes along with his release and Nathan feels Mitchell slump back against him, letting Nathan support him without thinking about it, as his arm slides around Mitchell’s waist.

It feels nice, for want of a better term and Nathan’s slightly reluctant when he breaks the silence.

“Did you want me to…” he can’t finish it, and Mitchell turns a little, to look at him, his body supporting its own weight again.

Nathan isn’t sure how Mitchell can read him the way he does.  “I want us to get dried off and get some sleep.  Fucking knackered.”  And he finishes it with a smile, as if having a conversation with his naked team mate in the shower is a standard end to a night out.

Before Nathan gets the chance to suggest anything else, the water is cut off.  Mitchell looks at Nathan again, before slipping out the shower door and reaching for the towels.

The sight of Mitchell’s naked and wet body reminds Nathan he’s still half-hard, and he frowns.  He’d been about to ask Mitchell if he still wanted Nathan to fuck him.  Apparently not.  He’s still not really sure what Mitchell wants past someone to sleep next to him tonight, but he takes the towel as he steps out of the shower and enjoys watching Mitchell dry himself off as he slowly does he same.   

He’s scrubbing the towel over his head and realises Mitchell’s standing, waiting for him.

He nudges his head towards the other room, “come on,” before wandering out completely naked and pulling at the tightly packed sheets of his queen sized hotel bed.

Nathan follows, watching Mitchell slip into the bed, and pull the sheets back in clear signal that Nathan’s expected to join him.  He does just that, mostly because it’s easier to talk without standing naked and exposed, and he slips a sheet up to his waist and settles on his back, turning his head to look at Mitchell who’s on his side, eyes on Nathan.

“This is new too, huh?”

“What, sleeping?”

Mitchell laughs softly, “hope not.  Sleeping in a bed with someone.”

Nathan nods a little, looking back up at the ceiling as he does.  It seems to be a night for new things.  He feels the weariness tug at him and then the bed shift slightly as Mitchell moves closer.

He’s not expecting it, and turns his head in surprise as an arm slides across his torso as Mitchell settles into his side.

“G’night.”

He’s about to protest.  He needs his own space, and he’s not going to be able to settle with someone else pressed against him.  But Mitchell’s warmth seeps into him and his head tucks into this shoulder when somehow Nathan’s arm has moved around him, and then it doesn’t feel so bad.  Nathan might just lie like this for a few minutes.  Maybe Mitchell will move off him, and he can roll away.  It’s the last thought Nathan manages before he drifts off to sleep minutes later.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s not unusual for Nathan to wake not knowing where he is.  Moving from one hotel to the next makes him used to the minute or two when he wakes and has to remember the city and the layout of his room.

He’s not at all worried when things don’t feel right when he wakes, and then he hears it.  The sound of someone breathing.  His eyes adjust slowly to the early morning light and then he makes out the sprawled form of his team mate, taking up most of the bed alongside him, the sheets tangled and barely covering his waist as he sleeps on his front.

Nathan’s first instinct is to get out of the bed, and somehow sneak out of the room without waking Mitchell.  He even feels himself start to sit up, before he stops, letting himself sink back into the mattress gently.  Last night is starting to reform more fully in his mind, and with it, those conflicting feelings Nathan has no idea what to do with.  Before he’s thought too much about it, he’s reached out a hand and trailed his fingers down the bare skin of Mitchell’s back. 

_You want to see me again_

The statement replays and Nathan watches Mitchell stir and hears his breathing change.  He’s not sure if he intended to wake him.  He’s not sure what he plans to happen at all, now that the option of slipping out is fading.

“You’re still here.”

Nathan’s hand stills as Mitchell’s words are muffled into his pillow. 

“Surprised?”

Mitchell finally moves, rolling onto this back and turning his head towards Nathan. He eventually works up to a smile, his eyes trailing to Nathan’s withdrawn hand.

“Yeah, I am.”

Nathan’s always avoided waking up the morning after with someone.   After the main event is over, there never seemed a point.  Last night wasn’t anything like a typical encounter though, and it feels like the usual rules just don’t apply anymore.

“Yeah?  You were the one who seemed confident that I wanted to see you again.”

Mitchell moves then, reaching out his arm and pushing his fingers across Nathan’s chest.

“I am.  Didn’t think it would mean over breakfast.”

Mitchell watches his fingers as he lets his large hand skim over Nathan’s torso.

“What makes you think I’m staying that long?”

Mitchell just lets his grin grow wider, shifting his gaze up to Nathan’s as he sends his fingers lower.

“You like this.”

And something finally shifts inside Nathan.  Just as Mitchell’s fingers are about to snake below the bed sheet, heading in a very obvious direction, Nathan stops him with a hand around his wrist.

“I – ” Mitchell looks at him, his face unreadable, as he waits, “I don’t want you to think…” and Nathan’s stuck again.

“I’m not proposing marriage, if that’s what you’re worried about.  Not just yet, anyway.”  And Mitchell smiles, despite the awkwardness of Nathan stopping his movements.

“Can we just…I need to think about this.”

Mitchell nods, slowly pulling his hand away as Nathan loosens his grip.

“There is a ‘ _this’_ isn’t there?  I mean,” and Mitchell sits up, pulling the sheet in place and propping himself up against the bed head, “you don’t do this.  Not normally.”

Nathan’s come further than he wanted, but he can’t bring himself to agree or say anything other than he’s going to get dressed and leave.

Mitchell just watches him as he gets out of the bed and flees into the bathroom to get changed.  A couple of minutes later when he emerges, again feeling uncertain in the situation, Mitchell is out of the bed and standing in his shorts, waiting for him.

“I’ll just – ” Nathan’s about to motion to the door.

“Don’t go without a goodbye kiss.”

Nathan watches Mitchell move towards him and has to make another of those decisions that usually aren’t this hard.  It’s probably the time he takes in considering what’s about to happen that allows Mitchell to press up against him, his arms around Nathan’s waist as he pauses for a second.

“I guess I’ll see you soon,” Mitchell supplies in mater-of-fact fashion. 

Nathan feels his body fire up, reacting to Mitchell’s touch and warmth, and even though he doesn’t want to admit it, reacting to the thought that this isn’t done.

Mitchell kisses Nathan, softly at first, and then when Nathan eventually can’t hold his body in check anymore, it grows into something approaching desperate.  The thought is there and gone before Nathan can worry about it too much.  He likes doing this.  Mitchell doesn’t hold back, and Nathan feels himself groan into his mouth, his cock, trapped between them and growing harder in no time at all.

Mitchell’s got one hand on his arse and Nathan’s starting to have second thoughts about walking out the door, and then the contact is broken.

Mitchell stays right there, pressed up snugly for a second and then he’s stepping back, arms wide for a second before dropping to his sides.

“Seeya later then.”

Nathan thrown off again.  It would be easy for Mitchell to make things go further, and yet he hasn’t. What if Nathan walks out now and that’s it.  Mitchell doesn’t get what he wants, but then, Nathan doesn’t get anything else either.

“Yeah…bus leaves at 10, right?”

He watches Mitchell nod, nothing more to say, and makes himself move towards the door before he changes his mind.

*

It’s three days before Mitchell talks to Nathan again, usual pleasantries aside.  They feel like three of the longest days of Nathan’s life.

He’s been more aware of his team mate than he can ever remember being about anyone.  It takes him by surprise, and by the end of the first day post the night they slept in the same bed together, he feels like a nervous wreck.  It started as soon as he turned up for breakfast.  He wandered into the hotel restaurant and immediately Mitchell is there, laughing and casually eating a big plate of eggs like nothing’s changed. Nathan stands a little too long, looking pointedly at his team mate before someone brushes his arm and grunts a morning greeting at him.  He doesn’t sit anywhere near Mitchell, and that sets the tone for the next three days.

On the bus, a couple of hours later, Nathan had glanced up in time for Mitchell to meet his eyes and then look past him, as if there’s no recognition there at all.  Nathan looks out the window for the rest of the trip, eventually putting his headphones out to block out Mitchell’s voice when seems to almost be amplified above everyone else’s.

That night, a new hotel in a new city, he’s restless and unable to focus on mindless TV.  He heads for his second gym workout of the day.  An hour and a half later, he’s tired and sore, and he still can’t shut off his mind.  He reaches for his phone, half hoping that there might be a message, and half wondering if he should send one.  Lying back on his bed with the back of his hand over his eyes, he forms messages in his mind.

Without fail they either turn into a half a page epic, or he only manages a word or two before giving up.  In either case, there’s nothing he can bring himself to actually act on.

After three restless hours, he at least comes to a conclusion.  He has to do something.  He has to at least talk to Mitchell, and ideally before that, he has to figure out what he’s going to say.

The thoughts come and go, and it’s the next morning as he’s looking at his blurry face in the hotel mirror that he feels something come into focus.  He’d woken minutes earlier and his memory of looking over at Mitchell’s prone position was there as if he was watching a movie of his life.

He hadn’t want to leave the bed that morning.  Looking over at the empty space after waking, he’d wished there was someone there to touch.  Someone in particular.

Nathan stares at his reflection and wonders when he became someone who wanted to spend more than one night with someone.  All the things that come along with that are there, and he splashes water onto his face and rubs at this eyes, maybe hoping it’ll wash some of this away.  Because underneath it all, it’s there.  The fear.  The _I-don’t-want-to-get-hurt_ fear.

“Fuck.”

Nathan looks at his shower, and those memories are there too.  Perhaps doing something will get Mitchell out of his head.  Perhaps if he just gives him what he wants, Mitchell won’t be interested anymore and Nathan will be able to draw a line under it all.  Perhaps.

It’s the next day when Nathan finally manages to send Mitchell a text.  It’s ridiculous really, when there have been plenty of opportunities during the day for him to go and have a conversation.  Even now, at 8pm he could wander down the hall and knock on his door.  It’s funny how some little words on a screen can be made to seem not as real.

_I want to see you again.  You fucking win.  Tomorrow?_

He sends it before he can change his mind, which happens a minute or so later when his phone chimes an incoming messages and half a dozen possible replies enter his head.

_What have I won?  Dinner at your place?  I’ll bring the beer_

Nathan smiles, the spike of apprehension fading away.  It feels like things are so easy for Mitchell.  When did Nathan lose that casual easy going nature?

_Room service at 7.  Don’t bring beer unless it’s speights_

And now it’s three days since that night, and Nathan’s anticipating what’s going to walk through his door any minute now.

He’s given in to his need to take the edge off and bought a six pack of his own.  He’s contemplating starting on beer number two when the quiet knock comes.

Mitchell is smiling like he’s genuinely happy to see Nathan on the other side of the door and holding up a Liquorland bag.

Nathan’s eyes are up and down Mitchell’s form before he can stop himself.  He’d been doing the same thing from afar for the last few days, and immediately feels the warmth of embarrassment in his face.

“Yeah, you’d better let me in before this beer heats up too,” Mitchell remarks, Nathan’s reaction not lost on him.

Nathan shuts the door and looks at it a few seconds longer before turning to find Mitchell stowing the cans in his fridge.

“Ah, so you started without me.”  Mitchell emerges from the fridge with a chilled can and promptly opens it. “Did you order food?”

Nathan’s lost for a minute, a stupid number of things going through his head.

“I…no.  Can you get me another can out?”

Mitchell does as asked, silently wandering closer to hand Nathan the drink.

Nathan knows this is where he’s supposed to talk.  Instead he cracks open his can and downs half of it.  It’s as much of a conversation starter as anything, Nathan thinks wryly as he watches Mitchell’s amused expression.

“I’m not going to jump you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” and Mitchell only waits a beat before adding, “not unless you want me to.”

Nathan’s body heats at the suggestion, and he drinks some more.

“No - I mean maybe - shit.”  He looks around, a nervous grin playing at his features.

“Aha,” Mitchell nods, sipping at his own drink, “that’s pretty clear.  So food or foreplay first?”

Nathan can feel a small buzz building now, but he’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or the situation making him feel like he’s starting to sweat.

“You hungry?”  Nathan throws back another question, wondering who’s going to crack first.

“A little bit.”

And both men stand, looking at eachother as they drink their beers.

“Have you missed me?”  Mitchell looks a little amused at his own question, as it surprises Nathan.

“I see you every day.”  Nathan knows exactly what Mitchell’s referring to, but somehow can’t bring himself to reference it.  Stupid that he still can’t let out what’s in his head.  Maybe he just needs another beer.

“You don’t wake up with me every day.”  And Mitchell moves closer, almost as if he’s gliding across the floor to close the distance. “You don’t let me get you off every day.”

And now, it’s definitely not the alcohol fuelling Nathan’s reaction.

“And…you _did_ ask me to come over so…” Mitchell’s head cocks to one side as if he’s examining an interesting science experiment as he lets his words trail off, his smile widening even further.

There’s silence again, and Nathan has to say something.  There’s too much hanging in the air in the short space between them.  When he does, it’s hardly a lengthy speech.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah what?” Mitchell’s response is instant.

“Yeah I…” Nathan doesn’t want to use the word Mitchell did.  He doesn’t want to say that he missed him, even if it’s true.  He settles for something else, “I liked what we did.”  And that in itself is a massive admission.  Nathan’s pretty sure Mitchell gets that, as he watches his expression grow a little more serious.

“So does that mean you’ve thought about things?  And…maybe you might want to pick up where we left off?”

Nathan doesn’t pick up the hopeful humour that Mitchell often uses.  It feels like there’s more hanging on this.

Nathan makes the decision then.  Perhaps he’d made it before now but not consciously acknowledged it. 

He glances around for the nearest flat surface before reaching out to take the can of beer out of Mitchell’s hand and setting it down along with his own.

He still doesn’t say anything as he closes the gap and telegraphs what’s next with a hint of a smile before sliding a hand over Mitchell’s hip.

“I’m still gonna need to eat,” Nathan deadpans as he pulls Mitchell against him, unceremoniously, painting the smile back on his face.

“You kidding?  I’m only doing this so there’s room for dessert.”  There’s not a lot of time for both men to laugh at the quip before Nathan’s grabbed at the back of Mitchell’s neck and forced their mouths together.

Nathan feels everything from three nights ago flooding back and wastes no time in pushing his other hand around Mitchell’s middle, pulling their bodies firmly together and sliding his tongue in against Mitchell’s at the same time.

He tastes the beer in their mouths mingle together and lets out a sound he can’t hold in check.  Nathan feels Mitchell’s arms move around him, and he lets his hand slide lower, grabbing at Mitchell’s arse as he pushes against his groin, letting him know instantly how his body is reacting.

He feels Mitchell pushing back against the hand in his hair as he pulls them apart slightly, staying close as their breathing fills the space.

He watches Nathan carefully, as if he’s about to say something he’s still forming.  Nathan gets there first.

“I want to fuck you.” It shouldn’t sound as strange as it does in Nathan’s ears.  He’s told plenty of men what he wants to happen in the bedroom.  He can’t really remember the last time he did this though.  And there’s something about those words that aren’t exactly what he means. He wants to say it some other way that doesn’t sound so transactional.  _I want to make love to you._   It passes in and out of his head.  

Nathan feels a hand fist in the front of his shirt and a hard fast kiss pressed to his lips before he’s being tugged forwards.

It would be awkward if Nathan wasn’t so turned on, and focused on Mitchell’s slightly cheeky grin as he reaches the destination of the bed and reaches for the bottom of Nathan’s shirt.

Nathan’s hands go in the air as his shirt’s pulled off.  “Is that a yes?”

Mitchell’s eyes met Nathan’s as he fingers drop to work at Nathan’s pants.

“I said it first, remember?”  Nathan just grins, and feels his zip slide down, “you can do something if you want.  Actually, you _need_ to do something.” Mitchell’s amused as he stands still and looks at Nathan.

Nathan’s tentative when he reaches out and slides Mitchell’s shirt up and over his head.  This all seems to be running in slow motion and there’s no denying any of it, as he feels the whole thing etching itself into his memory.  Nathan’s fingers brush across Mitchell’s torso, and he watches them slip to his waist and settle there before he looks up again.

“That’s a good start.”  Nathan has to wipe the by now familiar cheeky grin off Mitchell’s face so he kisses him again.  At the same time he fumbles his fingers across the front of Mitchell’s pants, rubbing at his cock though the thin material and earning a noise of surprise which is muffled into Nathan’s mouth.

Nathan’s the one grinning now as he breaks the kiss and moves his other hand to open Mitchell’s pants.  Seconds later he’s tugging down Mitchell’s pants and underwear and letting his hand slip around his cock, already solid and heavy.

He’s enjoying watching Mitchell’s reactions.  This is another new thing.  He kisses at his neck as he works him slowly and firmly to complete hardness.

“Jesus,” falls easily from Mitchell’s lips, followed by, “fucking need this…need you.”

The words drive more than just Nathan’s desire.  Mitchell’s pulled off his remaining clothes and lets Nathan push him down onto the bed.  Nathan runs his eyes over him deliberately slowly. No one’s told him that they need him before.  Nathan fingers go into his pants and he hisses as he touches his own cock, Mitchell’s eyes on him aiding his reaction.    

He doesn’t take his eyes off the bed as he tosses lube onto the mattress and crawls onto it.

He catches Mitchell looking at him curiously, “you gonna take those pants off?  I’d like it if you did.”

Nathan quirks a smile and does what he’s told, slightly awkwardly because Mitchell’s watching and he doesn’t usually get watched like this.  It’s not bad attention though, and Nathan finds himself stroking his now exposed cock and enjoying the attention.

“Come here…” Nathan’s tempted to mess with Mitchell, noting the dark urgency in his eyes and figuring he’d been teased enough to give a little back, but he’s painfully hard and he needs contact and relief.  

He moves himself between Mitchell’s legs as Mitchell parts them willingly and sits up to meet Nathan.  Nathan feels a hand slide around his torso as he lowers himself, messily meeting Mitchell’s mouth with his own again before he feels Mitchell pull him down to join their bodies together.

And oh, this feels like nothing Nathan’s felt before.  Every inch of his skin feels alive with sensation.  His cock is trapped against Mitchell and he feels the body beneath him move against him to position their groins together.  A hand slides over his arse and grabs at him firmly, and Nathan pushes his hips down firmly to aid in getting some relief.  It’s not exactly relief he gets though, when he feels Mitchell’s cock slide against his own for the first time, and he lifts his head a little, knowing he could easily keep rubbing against the body beneath him, and this would all be over in no time at all.  He feels his heartbeat pound through him as he lets his eyes focus on Mitchell’s slightly flushed face.

“This way?” Nathan’s voice isn’t as level as he’d like it to be as he nudges a knee gently between Mitchell’s legs.

Nathan feels Mitchell’s long wandering fingers slip between his arse cheeks, and can’t stop the expression change on this face, bringing another grin to Mitchell’s.

Mitchell angles his head so his reply is closer to Nathan’s ear, somehow making it feel more intimate.

“Like this, so you can see me when you come.”

Something runs through Nathan’s body that feels like an electric current.  Nathan feels a hand and long fingers on his face before Mitchell adds a few more words, “I want you to know that it’s me.”

Nathan doesn’t think that Mitchell can know what it’s like when Nathan’s with any of the men.  But maybe he’s said, without using the words, that he doesn’t want this to be anonymous.

Mitchell moves under Nathan as he lifts off and Nathan finds the lube pushed into his hand in silent signal that he needs to get on with things.

He slips wet fingers between Mitchell’s legs seconds later and watches his hips tilt up as Mitchell shoves a pillow under them.

Mitchell’s eyes close when Nathan pushes fingers into him for the first time and a strange feeling Nathan doesn’t recognise at first, courses through him.

“You okay?”

Concern.  He only realises it when the words come out and he feels his blunt fingers still, half-way buried inside Mitchell’s arse.

Fingers curl around one of Nathan’s arms and Mitchell’s lips turn up as he nods briefly, “won’t break.”

Nathan pushes two fingers deep inside Mitchell and leans down to kiss at his neck and shoulders, enjoying the taste of his skin on his tongue and smiling when he hears the small murmur of reaction, which is definitely pleasure.

He’s starting to realise nothing that’s happening is what he’s used to and he may as well just go with it.

He feels blunt nails push into his back as he works his fingers.  Mitchell feels so good around him that his stomach clenches up with the thought of what’s about to happen.  As if Mitchell’s two steps ahead of him again, he feels a slightly rasping, “ready for you,” against the side of his head and is immediately withdrawing his fingers.

He pauses as his hand encircles his throbbing cock and lets his eyes drink in Mitchell’s flushed, dewy skin.

Mitchell looks back at Nathan before dropping his gaze to his hand on his cock, “I hope you know what to do with that.”

Nathan leans down, rubbing the head between Mitchell’s arse cheeks and studying his expressive face, “guess we’re about to find out.”

Nathan keeps watching as he pushes into Mitchell for the first time.  This is new too.  He’s not used to things happening so slowly that that every sensation, sound and subtle expression is laid out for him.  Nathan wills himself to breathe after he realises he’s stopped.  His cock feels so painfully hard and full that he has no idea if he’ll be able to give Mitchell the pleasure he wants to.  Normally, that wouldn’t matter. 

Nathan buries himself as deep as he can go and reaches for Mitchell’s cock, standing solidly erect against his belly.  He grins at the groan of surprise Mitchell lets out and lowers himself over Mitchell, panting against his neck as his hips still.

“I forgot how this feels.”  He’s not sure Mitchell’s heard him, or if he even really meant him to, but then he feels a squeeze of pressure around his cock and a hand slides down his back in encouragement.

“It gets better…move.”

Nathan’s pretty much ahead of Mitchell on that front, as the last unsteady word is forced out, he’s pulling his hips back, feeling the exquisite drag across his cock before pistoning forward and burying himself balls-deep again.

Mitchell’s body seems to arch up as a whole in response, and it’s all the signal Nathan needs to keep going. 

He lets his hips work firmly and repeatedly as he plunges into Mitchell’s body, driving himself deeper with each thrust.  And God, why has he stayed away from this so long?

Nathan kisses at the parts of Mitchell he can reach until his movements grow too erratic and he feels himself teetering on the edge.  This should be where he gets off, and rolls away to put an end to the encounter but instead he finds himself slowing his thrusts, sinking his cock deep and rolling his hips teasingly slowly, immediately earning the reaction he’s after.  He’s bringing Mitchell along with him, reaching for his cock again, by now wet and throbbing between them, and lifting a little to watch his face.

“Look at me.”

Mitchell’s eyes pop open and Nathan watches him swallow hard as his control is nowhere to be seen.

For all the talk Mitchell’s managed to get them to this point, he’s surprisingly quiet now, and Nathan’s enjoying the silence between them as his hips grind and they watch each other.

Mitchell eventually manages a raspy, “do it,” and Nathan grins, immediately pulling out almost completely before he fucks his cock back into Mitchell with a grunt, sending Mitchell’s head back as his body writhes under Nathan’s.

Nathan can’t control his movements any longer and he repeats his last brutal thrust, feeling Mitchell slide across his sensitive cock, his muscles tightening and his body pushing up to into Nathan’s.

Nathan feels it coming and his cock slams deep, his hips jerking as a raw sound is dragged from his throat and he starts to shoot, hot heavy and wet inside Mitchell’s arse.

Mitchell feels and hears it, and Nathan’s repeated thrusts push him over too, Nathan’s hand somehow managing to milk his cock as he explodes in the searing space between them, wetting their bodies as every muscles in him strains against his skin.

Nathan doesn’t remember coming this hard before.  He lets his cock slide free as his hips finally still, and gently lets himself settle onto Mitchell, whose head’s gone back into the bed as his body feels utterly boneless under Nathan.

Eventually, Nathan feels lazy long fingers trailing up and down his spine and he smiles against Mitchell’s shoulder, lifting his head a little, “still with me then.”

Nathan feels a small bubble of amusement against his chest, “someone’s got me pinned pretty good.”

Nathan sits up slowly, reluctantly shifting his weight so he’s alongside Mitchell, pressed at his side as Mitchell stays on this back.

“I wasn’t complaining.” Mitchell’s grinning at Nathan now, his face looks relaxed and his skin perfect and dewy as Nathan’s eyes run obviously over him.

“Yeah well,” Nathan manages to drag his gaze back up to meet Mitchell’s as he settles a hand on his stomach, “this position has its benefits.”

Nathan slides his fingers through the wet mess on Mitchell’s body and leans over slowly, signalling easily what he wants as Mitchell angles in to meet the kiss.

It feels, for want of a better description, tender to Nathan, as he finally pulls back with a smile and settles onto his back.  This is the part of all this he’s most unsure about.  What’s supposed to happen now?  He settles for silence as he enjoys the relaxed feeling coursing through him.

His eyes are half-closed, minutes later when he feels the mattress move alongside him and his head turns and his eyes open to see Mitchell sliding off the bed and reaching for his pants.

The anxious feeling is there in the pit of Nathan’s stomach before the thought enters his head.  _This is what happens. This always ends._

Mitchell’s pulled his t-shirt over his head before he can catch the look on Nathan’s face.  When he does, he stills, the frown that ages him instantly worrying at his forehead.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”  And Nathan can’t lie at all.  The hurt mixed with confusion is there in the single word.

Nathan watches Mitchell’s expression smooth out as realisation dawns.  


“You think I’m leaving.”

Nathan closes his eyes and breathes hard, “aren’t you?”

The bed dips again, and Nathan turns to find Mitchell right there, lying on his side and watching him carefully.

“Getting hurt really is a thing for you.”

Nathan can feel himself shutting down, but then Mitchell smiles, his fingers reaching out to run slowly down Nathan’s arm.

“Getting dressed so I can order some room service.  I’m not going anywhere.”   

Mitchell kisses Nathan’s cheek and rests on his side, waiting for something.

This feels like the point Nathan’s been heading to, and even now, he’s not sure about the right way to express it.  It’s obvious now what he wants, and how deeps he’s in already.  It’s obvious Mitchell wants what he wants too.

Nathan rolls onto his side, his features softening, “I’ll have a burger and fries.  And…whatever it is that’s happening here – ”  Nathan mirrors Mitchell’s movements, fingering the bare skin of his forearm, “I’ll have as much of that as I can order too.”

Mitchell’s grin is as wide as Nathan’s seen before.

“I’m so gonna reward you for that, but we both know that this physique can’t function on hot men and sunshine alone.”

Nathan’s laughter joins Mitchell’s as he’s rolling away again, heading for the phone and the room service menu.

Nathan looks up at the ceiling for a minute, Mitchell’s voice floating in and out.  As he pushes himself reluctantly off the bed any into the bathroom, he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror and pauses.  He looks the same, on the outside, but somehow now when he looks at himself he doesn’t see the anger, or detachment he’s always known. 

He hears Mitchell yell something to him from the other room, and he grins at himself.  For better or worse, this is who he wants to be now, and it he finally feels like he’s found the right version of himself.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> You made it this far? Really? Thank you :) Now leave me a few words. I won't bite.


End file.
